Healing Wounds in Arabarb
By Charles Matthias
Quoddy thrust his wings back hard as he raced toward his brother. The
half-second it took to reach the puffin felt an eternity in which he
watched that arc of light stream through the sky with deadly
accuracy. And then the birds collided and crashed into the gambled
roof while the blast of energy scoured and blackened the wood behind
them. They tumbled end over end until they were dumped back into the
air over the heads of their friends in the Resistance. Quoddy spread
his wings and bounced back into the sky, while Machias tumbled around
once before finding his wings.
The gull glanced warily back at the field as he tried to turn to the
west to find some avenue in which they could keep hidden. He expected
to have to duck back beneath the awning of the nearest building to
avoid another volley of crushing light. But instead he saw the two
pups running toward the forest as fast as they could, their tails
tucked between their legs.
Quoddy flew a little higher and stared at the marvelous sight for a
few seconds before crowing his delight. "The pups are retreating! The
pups are retreating!"
Amidst Calephas's soldiers, three of them suddenly began attacking
those next to them shouting with glee, "Free! I'm free of that
monsters at last! Die you bastards!"
Gerhard, Jarl, and the rest turned in surprise as the army behind
them fell into utter chaos. Machias and Quoddy cawed the pup's
retreat again and again, not understanding it or the sudden changes,
but they knew they could only be portents of very good tidings.
The Resistance slowly turned and struck back, savoring the change in
fortune. Calephas's soldiers creamed and many threw down their
weapons and ran. Those caught between tried to surrender but after
nine years of subjugation, not a single man of Arabarb would have it.
The birds wheeled higher and watched in relief as that anger, that
hunger, found its relief at last.
----------
Brigsne did not know who the two young men that walked with open arms
and euphoric expressions into the armory ahead of the pup were. But
there was no mistaking the features common to the men of Arabarb
enjoying their first taste of manhood. And there was also no
mistaking the characteristic glint of slavish devotion that typified
the mage's pets. The spear he'd readied to throw lowered in his hands
as he gaped in horror. Soldiers of Calephas he would kill without the
slightest hesitation. His own people made slaves by magic were a
different matter altogether.
"Ture's apprentices!" One of the local men of the Resistance cried in
frustration. "Damn you, Gmork!"
Luvig was hunkered down between the rows of weapons next to the
Innkeeper from Vaar, trying to sort through the broken earthenware
jars in his knapsack for one that he could hurl at the ceiling. Maybe
the powder would fall on them faster than the magical wind thrust it
back stinging in their faces. Already two of the Lutins and one of
the men were seared by the white powder brushing against their flesh.
Brigsne was about to reach for Luvig to draw him further back into
the confines of the armory when something unexpected happened.
The two young men advancing before the pup stopped and blinked in
bewilderment. Even the pup seemed stunned by something that they
alone knew. His jaw hung slack and his tongue dangled out the right
side of his mouth like a farmer's dog watching birds fly overhead.
And then, a fierce light filled his blue eyes, swelling them a
brilliant yellow. His naked tail grew lush with dark fur, and he
jabbed his arms forward, thrusting the two young men off balance.
They stumbled into the nearest racks of weapons and offered the men
of Arabarb and the Blood Harrow Lutins a clear view of the pup.
Brigsne lifted his spear again, but the pup let loose with a single
ball of flame that darted up into the air, and then shot down like a
hailstone into Luvig's knapsack. The contents erupted in a geyser of
liquid flame in the young man's face and arms. He screamed as his
flesh seared off and his hair sizzled and caught fire. The pup turned
and ran down the hall, disappearing almost immediately around a corner.
Brigsne kicked the knapsack aside and yanked Luvig to the ground. He
writhed and screamed, trying to cover his face with his already
blackening arms. One of the other men threw Brigsne an old tapestry
that had been folded up and stashed in one of the corners. The
Innkeeper wasted no time pressing this down over the burning man's
upper body and holding it in place. The fumes from the burning
knapsack were making him nauseous and the scent of the yellow powder
strewn about the armory returned as soon as the wind spell vanished.
"Get out!" Brigsne shouted. "Everyone out!"
"What about the weapons?" One of the others asked.
"Grab what you can as you run!" He snapped even as he grabbed the
still squirming Luvig under the arms and dragged him away from the
incendiary knapsack. The flames were leaping up along the nearest
weapon rack and a vicious black smoke was beginning to curdle at the ceiling.
The Lutins were quick to leave, filing out into the hall and then
toward the bailey courtyard. The two apprentices were still in shock
but they were helped out by the other six men while Brigsne hauled
Luvig. The tapestry wrapped about his upper body was charred but it
seemed to have stopped the fire.
Once they were out into the hall, Brigsne slammed the door to the
armory shut and swore loudly. He lifted the tapestry off the man and
swore again. Luvig's face was covered in black and nasty red and
white welts, and half of his hair had been burned off. One of his
ears was a melted lump, and his eyes were pressed tightly shut; there
was no way to know whether he'd ever be able to see again.
His arms were even worse; both hands were ruins with bone peeking
through charred flesh along his fingers and palms. His forearms had
shriveled up to the elbows; his upper arms looked more like his face,
covered with fiery welts that still looked hot. Luvig quivered and
trembled, his breathing fast and shallow.
"We have to keep moving," Brigsne said after sucking down his bile.
"There's no telling what it will take for that fire to go out." He
slipped his arms beneath Luvig's legs and back and hoisted him as if
he were a child. "And what of you two? What happened?"
The apprentices glanced at each other and their faces were a mix of
rage and fear. "Gmork made us his slaves. But... suddenly it all went away."
"That has to be a good sign," one of the other men said as he hefted
a pair of swords he'd taken from the armory.
"I hope so," Brigsne said, Luvig's body trembling against his chest.
"Now where'd the Lutins go, and where should we go?"
"I think they went to the bailey," one of the local men said as he
pointed down the corridor the Lutins had fled. "I've been in the
castle before the Baron came. This way will take us to the battlement
walls." He gestured to a set of stairs a short distance down the hall
following the eastern wall. He then pointed to the hallway branching
off to the west. "And the city gatehouse is this way."
"The gatehouse," Brigsne said. Behind them he could see black smoke
curling out from the door frame. "And let's go."
They moved swiftly with their weapons in hand. Brigsne cast a worried
glance behind them, hoping that Luvig's fire wouldn't burn stone.
----------
One moment Lubec was cawing in anger and beating his wings against
the inside of the sack and trying to peck at the horse's thigh as he
bounced back and forth as they galloped through the woods. His fury
at being kept a prisoner by the vile Resistance was like a flame
coursing through his veins. He squawked promises of what his master
would do to the man if he didn't let the Cormorant go and make amends
for his transgressions. The rest of the time he tried to claw his way
out with his webbed feet and pointed beak.
The next moment he felt a vast emptiness within himself and all
around followed by a clear litany of memory stretching back all of
his years. How well he could remember the terror in his heart as the
monster had snatched his will word by word and turned him into a
traitor to his home, to the people of Arabarb, and most especially to
his brothers. He cawed in horror at what he had very nearly done and
beat his forehead against the horse's flanks as the bag bounced up and down.
"Oh, forgive me, Eli! Forgive me! I didn't mean to do any of it!" He
tried to screech more but his voice descended into a series of cawing
sobs that wracked his whole body. He shook from tail tip to beak,
black feathers rumpling into a horrid mess. All he could think of
were his two brothers lowering their necks into Gmork's jaws as he
had only moments ago yearned for.
After a minute or two the horse slowed and Lubec was able to catch
his breath again. Once they stopped, the rider jumped off and took
the satchel with bound bird and set it down on a mossy rock. "What
did you say?"
"I'm not that evil monster's slave anymore," Lubec cawed hopefully,
his voice strained with the agony of two months of terrible memories.
"I'm free!"
The rider wasn't so easily convinced and it took another few minutes
of painful questions digging into the terrible things that Lubec had
done for Gmork in the last two months before the sack was finally
opened and the black Cormorant was able to stretch his wings in the
light of day.
The rider, an older man with long graying beard and a keen eye if
showing signs of age, watched him closely but did not threaten him
any further. Lubec preened his feathers until he felt everything
where it should be. "They've all gone to Fjellvidden haven't they?"
"Aye," the rider replied as he glanced over his shoulder. "But if
you're free... that must be good news."
"I have to find out if my brothers are okay," Lubec announced, as he
glanced up at the trees to find a place he could fly through to reach
the sky. "Can you take me somewhere with a little more sky? I'm still
sore from being in the sack."
The rider nodded and helped him onto the back of the horse. "There's
a clearing a few minutes back this way. I'm going to Fjellvidden too.
If you see them let them know I'm coming."
Lubec sighed and held on as best he could as they trotted through the
clustering pine and fir. He prayed fervently, something he had not
done in two months, for his brothers, for Pharcellus and for Lindsey,
and for his own soul.
----------
Gmork's youngest snarled and snapped at the handful of human guards
who were running about the castle like crazed chickens searching for
their eggs. They all ran from him when they saw him bounding through
the castle halls, his claws leaving gouges behind in the stone as he
rushed past. His body moved so quickly though that most of those
guards couldn't run away fast enough and yelped when they felt his
fangs whisper past their flesh.
He was not going to actually bite any of them, but they were not
going to been in his way either.
The warm light of day washed across him as he emerged onto the
battlements. The bailey below was a scene of chaos as fire leaped
through the windows of the armory charring the roof and walls black,
while soldiers grabbed what they could and ran out through the gates
to the city. It looked like the Lutins were chasing them out, but
they disappeared like mice back into the castle at the other end of
the bailey from the armory.
Gmork's youngest noted these things within a heartbeat, for his
attention was never truly on them. Instead, he rushed headlong toward
the battlements overlooking the city. Laying in a puddle of fresh
blood still pooling and flowing was the decapitated body of his
father. Two of Calephas's soldiers were standing nearby, chuckling to
themselves as they stabbed the corpse with their spears.
Their laughs turned to screams when they saw the pup vaulting across
the open space separating the bailey wall from the battlements. The
nearest lifted his spear to block him, but Gmork's youngest swept his
arms down in a V-shape. The concussive force shattered the spear down
its middle, and knocked both men against the outer wall.
He landed on heavy paws just beyond his father's body. His jaws
quivered with a chest-rattling growl as he grabbed both men by their
mail shirts, lifted them off their feet, and hurled them out over the
river. They screamed and tumbled end over end before finally
splashing and being swept under by the current.
There were no others on the battlements to contest him, so Gmork's
youngest knelt down next to the body and gently smoothed out the
matted fur along his father's back where it had been disturbed by
those vile spears. With delicate care, he turned his father's body
over and arranged the arms over his chest, fur-coated and clawed
hands resting one atop the other as if in peaceful slumber. He then
straightened his father's legs and tail so that they were also in a
spirit of repose.
His golden eyes swept over the body, gasping in agony at the severed
neck wound. Gmork's youngest settled down on his haunches next to him
and away from the blood now sliding down through one of the nearby
drains along the outer wall. After a long breath and a wordless
prayer he tilted back his head, opened his beastly snout and howled
in anguish and bitterest misery.
----------
May He bless you and keep you in His grace and love,
Charles Matthias
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